(how memories flood over you like rain
and how you remember voices that you can no longer hear)
out of the vastness
out of the void
comes a rush of voices and rain
speaking to you in pieces;
in tones of understanding-
you feel it in the closeness
in the afternoon swinging low.
you speak to it but it scatters
into the vastness
into the void
leaving only splinters and echoes.
you sense the victory
even when there is no understanding
you stand anyway
to face the rush of voices and rain.
(2009-Bolingbrook, IL)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem